One year ago when we first started trying to conceive, I got excited when I had a particularly long cycle and late period. Even though pregnancy tests were negative, I thought maybe if I give it enough time I would see two lines on the test in a few days. I started planning how I would tell my husband. Truth be told, I had already had ideas about how to tell him. I wanted it to be a surprise; I wanted to control the circumstances and mood. I went out shopping for my supplies.
Against my better judgment I bought a onesie of his alma mater. It took considerable planning to get away without suspicion and I waited in line for an eternity at the bookstore. While in line I remember looking down at the onesie and thinking, “I hope I’m not jinxing it.” Of course not! Jinxes aren’t real! But…
I recalled a movie or tv show I saw a year or two ago that talked about a jinxing pregnancy in just this way. I want to say it was a Lifetime movie but I really can’t be sure what it was. All I remember is a woman showing her best friend a box she had kept hidden under the bed, filled with baby items that she had collected over the years and intended to use for her baby. Except the baby never came, and she discovered she was infertile. I remember feeling so much pity for that character, and being unable to imagine having that many hopes riding on a child – much less being able to imagine having those hopes dashed by a diagnosis. And this scene of grief, despair, and denial all came back to me standing in line at the bookstore. Of course that won’t be me, I though. I bought the onesie and didn’t think much of it.
That is, until the day of my HSG, when reality came crashing in that I would likely not have children. I sat crying with my husband, in what was probably a scene similar to that movie scene, filled with grief, sorrow, loss, regret. And I thought about the onesie. What would I do with it now? I can’t return it. I can’t give it away – it wouldn’t have meaning to many other people. Would I keep it hidden in the hope that one day maybe – just maybe – I would be able to see a little one wearing it?
Because of the uncertainty of my diagnosis – which still leaves me in that land of hopeful limbo – I decided to hold onto the onesie. I hid it, moving it from its prominent place in my closet to a dark, high corner I can’t reach or see without a chair. Because maybe…. One day….